


Into the Black

by Jabean



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Mention of) Miscarriage, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Gen, Half-Blood Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regulus Black Lives, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabean/pseuds/Jabean
Summary: It was the summer after Hermione's 6th year when she learned that she was no Muggle-born witch. Throw in a troubled Horcrux hunt, a psychotic prison escapee, a bit of luck from an unlikely source and a decades old secret finally coming to light.The actions of good people are questioned, and those on the other side of the war are not as bad as they seem.Everyone has their secrets.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott
Comments: 112
Kudos: 258





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,
> 
> Thank you so very much for checking this story out! 
> 
> Apologies for the long note, I just wanted to give everyone the heads up on a few things before you read the first chapter.
> 
> I. A hugely massive THANK YOU to my alpha: **fbbbgirl**. Thank you so much for everything that you do. Your help on this story is greatly appreciated.
> 
> II. I have chosen not to use archive warnings. While I will not write anything non-con/Rape or underage, I have tagged Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD for this story. It will be relatively minor in comparison to what PTSD is like in real life. There will likely be some relatively graphic depictions of violence, as this story picks up prior to the final battle of Hogwarts. More tags will be added as I continue to write. Please keep a lookout for them. I will also warn at the start of the chapter.
> 
> III. This story makes the assumption that books 6 & 7 have been read and/or the corresponding films have been watched. The first 2 chapters have significant time jumps in them. They may be confusing for those who haven’t read those books or watched those films. I view them as being extended prologues or snapshots to the story which “begins” in Chapter 3.
> 
> IV. You're not losing your mind! This is a rewrite! I was unhappy with how I wrote it initially, and decided to rewrite all of it. Apologies for the confusion.
> 
> Finally, I have Tumblr if anyone wanted to chat. I am a gentle soul, please do be kind. 
> 
> You can find me [here](https://jabean21.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Jabean ❤️❤️

Hermione Jean Granger was terrified.

She had recently returned home from her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster and leader of the light, had been killed. Death Eaters had stormed the castle, and certain potions professors had fled with them after wreaking havoc.

She felt empty. _Hollow._ A shell of her former self ever since she heard that it was Professor Snape who had done the deed and murdered the Headmaster.

She swallowed tightly, trying to ignore her churning stomach.

Years and years of Harry complaining about Snape. His insistence that he was the bad guy was all for nought. Same with Draco Malfoy.

No one had listened. No one believed him.

And the slippery snakes had gotten away as a result.

Now all they had was a dead Headmaster, a destroyed school, and stomach churning fear.

Hermione tossed in a few more items of clothing into her trunk. Stuff she hadn’t worn in years, but she knew she couldn’t be picky now. She needed to be prepared for anything.

She knew it was only a matter of time before her parents were hunted down and slaughtered by Death Eaters due to her well-known relationship with Harry Potter — the _Boy-Who-Lived._

That, and she was Muggle-born.

Hermione snorted and shook her head as she clamped her trunk closed.

A clever Muggle-born witch. Far too clever for their comfort. 

If she was a fool, they likely wouldn’t care as much as they did.

On the train ride home, as the rest of the students were dealing with the fact that the Death Eaters had actually stormed the castle, Hermione was going over her plan to protect her mother and father. A plan that was almost three years in the making. Ever since the Quidditch World Cup.

“Hermione dear,” her mother called from the sitting room downstairs. “Your tea is ready. Come tell us all about your time at Hogwarts.”

Hermione exhaled slowly before clearing her throat. “I’ll be right down mum!”

Whipping out her wand, she shrunk down her trunk and tucked it into the beaded purse slung across her chest. She took one last look at her childhood bedroom before flicking off the light and quietly making her way downstairs.

Her mother and father were sitting on the settee, backs to her as she pointed her wand at the back of her mother’s head.

A whispered stunning spell. Her mother collapsed in a heap on her father’s lap.

“What the hell?” Her father yelled out as he turned to face her.

_“Stupefy.”_

He, too, collapsed. Cradling her mother. Protecting her even in his unconscious state.

Hermione stepped around the settee to face her parents.

_“Obliviate.”_

She picked through each and every memory her mother had of her and pulled it all out of her head.

The summers and holidays spent with her parents during her breaks from her time at Hogwarts. The many letters that she had sent, telling them of her classes. Their trip together as a family to Diagon Alley before her second year. Meeting Professor McGonagall on her eleventh birthday, explaining to them all that Hermione was a witch.

Hermione pulled and pulled. Going deeper and deeper into her mother’s mind.

Five years old, getting storybooks for her birthday. Just over a year old, and wobbling over to her mother for the first time. Hermione bit her bottom lip as she was bombarded with her mother's absolute joy.

She reached all the way to the time of her birth, remembering the stories that her mother and father told her. The miracle baby, after years spent trying. 

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. There was _nothing_ there.

No pregnancy. No morning sickness that her father had joked with her about when she was younger and giving her mother a hard time.

_Nothing._

Nothing but her name. The importance of her name.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, uncertain. It reeked of magic. She could practically taste it; feel it in the recesses of her mother’s mind.

Someone had already obliviated her parents. Someone had already planted false memories into her mother’s head. Her father's too, of that she was certain.

Shaking her head at herself, Hermione pulled everything out and planted the need to move to Australia to restart the dental practise there. 

She gently pulled out of her mother’s mind and got to work on her father, finding the exact same thing. The same false memories. She, in turn, planted the same need to flee to Australia.

Hermione hid a sob behind a hand as she rushed out of the garden doors leading to the back garden. Her mind was whirring with what she had learned. Trying desperately to comprehend what it all meant.

She cleared her throat as she made her way further into the garden. She needed to leave quickly. Helen and Artie Granger would be waking up in a few minutes and she needed to disappear.

Hermione exhaled deeply as she stopped in the centre of the garden, thought of the Burrow, and Disapparated with a _crack._

~ | ~

“I don’t think I can do this,” Harry mumbled tiredly to her as night fell once again.

The heavily falling snow visible from the tent flap stubbornly refusing to stay closed in the wind.

Hermione's skin burned from the cold. Her stomach protested in anger from the days of eating nothing but snow or bark.

“Maybe...” She struggled to clear her throat. “Maybe we need to hide the locket,” she whispered to her friend as he knelt before her laying on the lumpy mattress. “Till we know what to do with it.” Her words were slurring slightly. She hoped he understood what she had said to him. She was far too exhausted to repeat her words.

A quiet hum from her friend. Harry stood up and stepped away from her. The sound of his boots were heavy on the wood floor and getting quieter.

Hermione moaned. A garbled sound as she tried to plead with Harry not to leave her too.

_Not like Ron._

Silence.

She tried to lift her head. Tried to see. Her vision blurry as her tears started to fall.

“No.” A desperate sob. _Not like this._

“Hush.” A warm voice from just out of sight. 

Footsteps coming closer.

“I’m still here,” Harry soothed her quietly. “I’ve not gone anywhere. I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”

He clumsily crawled into bed with her. Tugging the layers of blankets up.

Harry’s arm reached around her stomach, pulling her close as she shivered violently.

“Shhh," Harry's voice was soft in her ear. “Rest now, Hermione. I can’t do this without you.”

_Darkness._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️ This chapter has torture in it. Also Greyback is creep. ⚠️

The world stuttered to a halt the second Harry uttered Voldemort's name.

Hermione stared at him in fear. Dread pooling in her stomach as her mind raced for a solution.

_Any_ solution.

She knelt down to hide her beaded purse in her boot and rose back up on her feet — looking between him and Ron — who was swearing up a storm. She tugged out her wand and pointed it at Harry. “Do you trust me?”

A shaky nod of his head was the only response she needed. She hit him with a stinging hex, disfiguring his face and his scar along with it. Blasted him with an advanced glamour spell that she had only practised a few times before which altered the colour of his hair. An awful orangey-red colour met her eyes. 

She turned to face Ron who was watching in shock. A twist of her wand and a muttered incantation just as the first pops of Apparition met her ears. 

Ron now had a thick, grizzly-looking beard.

She turned her wand on herself just as the tent flap was ripped right off. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted her hair change to a golden blonde.

It would have to do. They'd run out of time.

Her wand flew out of her hand just as the first snatcher stepped into the tent.

Greyback sauntered in after him with a grin on his face. “My, my, my… what have we here?” His tongue darted out as he spotted Hermione. Nostrils flaring as he took in her scent.

She held firm, refusing to back down. Jutting out her chin, she looked him dead in the eyes. “It was a slip of the tongue. We truly mean no harm.”

The snatchers began tearing through their belongings. Dumping out their fresh water. Tossing the still cooking fish into the fire.

“I hope you weren’t hungry.” Greyback was standing directly in front of her now, peering down at her and doing his best to intimidate.

“Not particularly.” Her stomach growled in disagreement.

A low chuckle.

“Oi!” A snatcher called out as he pulled out the poorly hidden Sword of Gryffindor from underneath the mattress. “Where in the blazes did you get this?” His shock was evident for all to see and hear.

“Found it,” Ron supplied quietly as another snatcher peered closely at him, taking in his appearance. 

“Where?” A gnarled hand gripped his jaw.

“In a fucking puddle you greasy git.”

Hermione winced as the first blow hit Ron in his gut. Watched as he doubled over in pain, gasping for breath.

“Who the hell are you?” Greyback forced her attention onto him once again.

Hermione swallowed. “Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood.”

A low hum. The narrowing of his eyes. Greyback smirked at her. “You sure about that?”

She scoffed. “I know who I am.” Defensive. An obvious lie.

Greyback reached out a hand, brushing her cheek gently with the knuckle of his thumb. He ran his fingers through her hair.

Hermione couldn’t hold back her shudder. She jerked her head away from the beast.

“And who the hell are these two tossers then?” Greyback turned his attention to her companions.

“Dudley,” Harry blurted out. “Vernon Dudley.”

“Freddie Dudley,” Ron responded, his voice pained. He was holding his gut. “We’re brothers.”

“What the fuck happened to your face?” The werewolf narrowed his eyes at Harry, taking in his swollen forehead and puffed up cheek.

“He got handsy with me,” Hermione supplied. Crossing her arms across her chest. “I put him in his place.”

“She’s got teeth this one,” Greyback chuckled to the other snatchers in the tent. “It’s a pity she’s such a liar.”

The snatcher holding the sword stepped close to Harry, taking in his appearance. Poking his forehead with a finger. “That looks like a scar.” Wonder in his voice. “I think — I think we got Potter!”

“Perhaps. They’re all definitely hiding something,” Greyback agreed amusedly. “We need to take them to headquarters.”

Hermione was tugged out of the tent behind Ron and Harry.

Waiting just outside the tent were two more snatchers hanging onto another group of captives.

Dean Thomas and a goblin. Both beaten and bruised.

A slight, subtle look of recognition passed across Dean’s face before it was quickly hidden away.

_Shit._

Greyback’s hand clasped her throat tightly before they disapperated away to headquarters. Wherever that was.

~ | ~

Hermione was shaking and gasping for air the second they reappeared in front of a pair of ostentatious gates leading up to a massive manor.

“State your purpose,” a monotonous voice sounded from the gate.

“We’ve got Potter!” The snatcher holding the sword yelled out. “Let us in!”

The gates clanked open.

Hermione’s mind was racing with fear. She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to get out of this one.

They were steered through the courtyard and up the marble steps. A massive door opened up as soon as they reached the top step.

Greyback forced her through the entryway. A firm hand on her shoulder. Another in her hair, tugging hard.

“Where?” A rough looking Lucius Malfoy greeted them without preamble. “Which one is Potter?” He looked around at the captives. “Narcissa, get Draco.”

A blonde, regal looking woman merely raised a brow at the order. Her lips pursed in disappointment and distaste.

“Please Cissa,” Lucius pleaded with her. “If one of these scum truly is Potter, all will be well once more.” He paused. _“Please.”_

Hermione watched as Narcissa narrowed her eyes at the group of snatchers and their respective captives before spinning around and hurrying up the grand staircase to the second level.

“Toss the goblin into the cellar downstairs,” Lucius ordered. “The Black boy as well. He’s obviously not Potter,” he said after a moment.

The two respective captives were led down the narrow staircase off to the side of the room.

Rushed footsteps coming nearer and nearer.

Draco appeared at the top of the steps before hurriedly making his way down. His mother followed closely behind him.

“What’s going on?” He was much skinnier than the last time Hermione saw him. His cheekbones were far more pronounced and his clothes hanging off of his narrow frame. Draco Malfoy appeared ragged-looking. Exhausted.

“Which one is Potter?” Lucius snapped at him, jabbing his finger towards the visitors.

“This one here." The snatcher with the sword pushed a poorly disguised Harry forward. “He’s got a scar, you see?” He pointed. “Right there on his forehead.”

Draco hesitantly made his way closer to Harry. Peering at him with interest. Looking Harry dead in the eyes for a minute or two. 

Eager silence and impatience wafted around the grand drawing room as everyone waited for the word that they had found the _Boy-Who-Lived._

Draco's grey eyes darted up to Harry’s forehead, to his scar, pulled and stretched into a distorted shape due to the stinging hex Hermione had hit him with earlier. A second or two on his orangey-red hair.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know who this is.” Quiet but firm. He turned to face his father. “I’ve never seen this bloke before in my life.” Louder now.

“Bullshit!” The snatcher growled out. “It’s right there!” He forced Harry to his knees. “Look!”

“I suggest we place them in the cellar for the time being,” Narcissa suggested to the room as she stepped closer to her son and placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him instantly from arguing with their unwanted visitors. “The boy has obviously been hit with a stinging hex. We must wait it out until it fades to be absolutely certain.” She looked around at the people in her home, her eyes locking with Hermione’s for a second.

“What is all this ruckus?”

An icy cold sensation travelled down Hermione’s spine. Fear.

_Oh… they were in trouble._

The one and only Bellatrix Lestrange sauntered into the room. One hand twirling her wand, the other pulling at her hair. “Whatever have I missed?” She grinned at the room, turning to look at her sister. _“Cissy?”_

Hermione swallowed in confusion. The woman sounded like a child, not Voldemort’s right hand soldier.

Narcissa cleared her throat. “The snatcher’s here believe they’ve captured Harry Potter, but Draco was unable to make a positive identification. I suggested we wait until the stinging hex the boy’s been unfortunately hit with wears off before calling the Dark Lord. He would be most displeased if he were called unnecessarily.”

“Nonsense,” Bellatrix waved her suggestion off. “We can remove the hex and take a look.” She practically skipped over to Harry. “Easy peasy.”

_Shit._

Bellatrix grinned at Harry and held her wand to his forehead. The glint of the sword still being held by the snatcher standing behind Harry caught her eye. 

Hermione watched as Bellatrix's eyes grew in shock. Fear.

“Where did you get that sword?” The Death Eater questioned the snatcher still grasping the blade. _“WHERE?”_ she roared.

“Their tent. I found it in the tent.” A pause. “I reckon it’s mine now. Payment for my services.”

Bellatrix blasted him and the snatcher hanging onto Ron with a hex before Hermione could comprehend what was going on.

The sword clanked loudly to the floor, assaulting Hermione’s ears.

“YOU’VE BEEN IN MY VAULT!” Bellatrix bellowed as she pulled Harry up by his hair. Her wand was jabbing into his neck. “WHAT ELSE DID YOU TAKE?”

Harry was struggling. Trying to get away from her. “Nothing… we’ve not been in there.” He was grimacing as Bellatrix held on tightly to his hair.

“We haven’t been in your vault!” Hermione yelled out. Drawing the psychotic witch’s attention.

Bellatrix tossed Harry aside and stormed over to Hermione. Hand on her throat. Wand jabbing into her cheek. _“You lying bitch.”_

“WHO IS SHE?” She yelled out to the room. Her spit spraying Hermione’s face.

“She told us Penelope Clearwater. Half-Blood,” Greyback said from somewhere behind Hermione. His voice sounded strained.

Bellatrix cackled. “Penelope Clearwater is dead.” She looked at Hermione joyfully. Eyes alight. “I killed her myself.”

Hermione swallowed, forcing herself to at least attempt to remain calm.

“You are going to tell me how you got into my vault, _Mudblood,”_ Bellatrix hissed in Hermione’s ear. “Send the boys down to the cellar,” the witch ordered the room, waving a hand in their general direction, still watching Hermione closely. “This bitch and I are going to be spending some quality time together catching up… _girl to girl.”_

Protesting from both Harry and Ron as they were led down the stairs.

The clank of the cellar door shutting hard.

Bellatrix took a step back and pointed her wand at the terrified Hermione. _“Incarcerous!”_ the witch hissed as she waved her wand in an intricate motion.

Hermione cried out as a thick rope wrapped tightly around her wrists before shooting up and wrapping around the ornate chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. She struggled as her toes brushed the hardwood floor, her shoulders protested from the strain they had been suddenly put under.

She held back a sob as she peered fearfully at Bellatrix who was watching her closely, twirling her wand as she paced back and forth in front of Hermione.

Off in the distance she spotted the Malfoys huddled together near the grand fireplace. Narcissa with a wand in her hand, subtly pointing it at the unsuspecting Greyback who was watching Hermione with uncomfortably keen interest.

He licked his lips as he took in Hermione tied up and hanging in the air. 

Hermione felt the first tears hit her cheeks as she watched Greyback’s right hand begin to massage the growing bulge in his trousers.

“No,” she sobbed. “Please don’t…”

_“CRUCIO!”_

The first cruciatus curse hit her unexpectedly. Forcing her attention back to the very real threat that was Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione screamed as the horrific curse ripped through her veins. Her legs curled up as her muscles contracted.

“Leave her alone!” Ron yelled out from the cellar down below. “Take me instead!”

“How did scum like you get into my vault?” Bellatrix hissed to her after abruptly cutting the curse off.

“We didn’t… I swear,” Hermione choked out. Knowing full well she wouldn’t be believed. 

_“Liar!”_ The psychotic witch bellowed. She waved her wand in an intricate pattern once again, causing Hermione to flinch.

It was like she was being brushed with a soft feather. Hermione wailed when the gentle caresses turned into searing burns.

“How did you get into my vault?” Wild, panicked eyes were peering into her own.

Hermione couldn’t look away. “We just found it,” she forced out, gasping for breath. “Protection.”

_“CRUCIO!”_

Hermione twitched and convulsed once again. Her legs curled to her chest causing her shoulders to protest from the strain. Her throat burned as she screamed.

Her fingers curled into fists and her nails cut into the palms of her hands, drawing blood.

“Who _are_ you?” A childish curiosity now as Bellatrix grasped Hermione's jaw with her left hand and peered curiously into her eyes.

The abrupt change in moods had Hermione’s head spinning. She felt as her hastily applied glamours began to be removed. A soft trickle travelled down the length of her hair. There was a sharp pain in her head as Bellatrix continued to flick away at her disguise.

Hermione thrashed her head around. Desperately searching for a way out of her predicament. 

A hand grasped her chin, forcing her to look at the insane witch. 

“Stay still, _darling,”_ Bellatrix purred at her, “Or I’ll hit you with another _crucio_ just for fun.” the psychotic witch stuck her tongue out as she continued her task. Suddenly she gasped, leaping away from Hermione as if she’d been zapped with electricity. _“Who?”_

There was dead silence, if only for a second or two, before Bellatrix lost it completely. _“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”_ she shrieked. _“CRUCIO!”_

Hermione’s muscles constricted once again, this time she felt her flesh rip open from the strain. Her bladder emptied in protest.

She wailed as her throat tore open.

She began choking on the blood pooling in her mouth.

She was vaguely aware of the sound of someone collapsing on the marble floor.

Eerie silence.

Blonde hair and pale skin came into her line of sight. “Hold on, dear.” A rushed whisper. A woman. _Narcissa._

A scarf was tucked in one clenched hand and a group of wands in her other. 

The rope tying Hermione to the chandelier overhead was cut, causing Hermione to come crashing to the floor.

_“Portus.”_

A pull in her stomach, Hermione held on tightly to the scarf as she was transported away.

She winced as she hit the back of her head on whatever hard surface she had landed on.

Rushed footsteps coming closer.

_“Fuck.”_ A male voice. Unfamiliar.

A painful sob escaped her throat as she forced her eyes open.

Shocked, grey eyes met hers. Dark hair, pale skin.

Hermione blinked, fighting to keep her eyes open, to no avail. 

Exhaustion set in. 

Darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️ There is brief mention of miscarriage (vaguely) and the death of a mother (again vaguely). ⚠️

Hermione could feel something soft pressing against her back. Her fingers and toes were no longer numb from the cold from being on the run all throughout the winter months.

Tingles. Murmuring. Spellwork.

Hermione tried opening her eyes. Fighting against a thick grogginess. She must’ve been under some sort of enchantment that was preventing her from waking up completely. From fighting back.

Fear pooled in her stomach.

She fought like hell to break whatever spell she was under. A groggy mumble escaped her lips. She could _almost_ open her eyes.

“Don’t fight it,” an unfamiliar voice tried soothing her. Male.

Hermione fought harder than ever.

“Hermione.” Sharp. Firm. “Do _not_ fight it. You are safe. You are being healed. Fighting it will only cause more damage.”

Hermione whimpered in fear.

“I’ve just used a _somnium_ and a _petrificus totalus_ in order for you to stay put,” the man informed her. “I need you to stay perfectly still in order for the wounds from the feather flogging and cruciatus curses that Bellatrix put you through to heal properly.” A pause as a light dusting tickled her chest. “I assure you, I have decades of experience healing this particular curse; it’s a specialty of my family. I’ve been healing my brother since I was a small boy. I promise I know how to heal it, but I need you to stay perfectly still in order for that to happen.” 

Her mouth was gently opened up. A potion was poured down her throat.

Darkness.

~ | ~

Hermione’s eyes opened in a flash. Wide awake.

She tried moving her right hand. Attempted to scratch her nose. While still painfully sore, she was able to move, albeit somewhat clumsily. Blinking a few times to allow her mind to catch up with her, she took note of what she could see from her position on the bed.

It was mostly dark in the room, a lantern was flickering lowly from the far side of a tall dressing table pushed up against the bed she was lying in. Night time. Perhaps early morning. It was difficult to tell.

More blinking as she took stock of her body. Her injuries. She was clothed in an unfamiliar jumper and a pair of joggers. Her feet were bandaged, same with her hands. If she focused well enough she could feel the bandages all the way up her arms and legs. Across her chest and stomach as well.

She sniffed. The soft but distinctive stench of Murtlap Essence met her nostrils. Her bandages were obviously coated in the stuff.

Hermione frowned, trying to remember what she was told. Her head hurt, her mind sluggish. Slow.

A weak clearing of her throat. _What was it called? What were the words used?_ “Feather flogging,” she whispered to herself. Her throat was burning. _Repeated cruciatus curses._

“That’s right,” a voice said from beside her bed. Movement. “Feather flogging… it’s what Bellatrix did to you.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock as she took in the stranger sitting next to her bed, confused as to how she hadn’t noticed him before.

She pulled her legs up as she shot up into a seated position, searching for an escape route.

The man held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

She remained silent and eyed a bundle of wands on the dressing table within an arm's reach if she really stretched out. Her eyes darted back to the man who was watching her with curiosity and caution. “Who are you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’ve told you already… do you remember?” He was testing her. Checking her mind for any sort of damage.

Hermione frowned, thinking hard. “Feather flogging… it-it’s from your family. A specialty.”

The man nodded slowly. “That’s correct.” He cast a low lumos with his hands, allowing her a better view of him.

Folded in the chair facing her bed was a well-built man dressed all in black. The sleeves to his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. Jet black hair was slicked back and he was sporting a noticeable five-o'clock shadow. The man needed a shave. Badly.

His grey eyes were locked on hers.

He looked like Sirius. _Almost._ Younger and healthier-looking.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Her mind slowly began to put the puzzle pieces together. “Your brother… healing.” She paused and frowned. “R-Regulus?”

His face broke out in the slightest of grins. “Right in one, Hermione.”

“You… you’re supposed to be dead,” she muttered to him. “Your note in the locket. The cave.”

Regulus nodded slowly once again. “Almost. I almost was dead.”

“How?”

A hum. “Narcissa. She saved my life. She was with me when I entered the cave.”

Hermione continued to peer at him in curiosity. Her eyes quickly darted to the Dark Mark visible on his left forearm. The snake was moving, slithering through the open mouth. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

Regulus quirked his head, an intrigued look on his face as he peered down at the mark on his arm. “I’ve had to numb it recently. Barely notice it now when the Dark Lord comes calling.”

She had no response to that statement. No knowledge of how Dark Marks actually worked other than the basics. Her mind began to whir with questions about the information he had given to her before she was distracted. “Is that why she sent me here? Narcissa? Because of the cave?” She swallowed, ignoring the sharp burn in her throat. “We’ve already destroyed the locket. I’ve got it in my beaded purse.” 

She started to look around the room some more, in search of her trusty bag. It was on top of a trunk at the foot of her bed. She reached a bandaged hand out.

“It’s not because of the cave,” Regulus quietly interrupted her futile attempt to reach her purse.

Hermione focused on him once again. He had conjured up a mirror and was reaching out to hand it to her.

“It’s not because of the cave,” he repeated once she took the mirror from him.

Hermione peered at him worriedly before taking a hesitant peek at the mirror in her hand.

Staring back at her was a woman with curly, black hair and pale grey eyes. Skinny. Starving. “Who? How?” She frowned at herself in the mirror. “I-I don’t understand.”

Regulus looked down at his hands in his lap, exhaling slowly. Deeply. “Your mother gave birth to you a few months after we graduated Hogwarts." He frowned, hesitating slightly. “I am your father.” He peered at Hermione as he finished his statement.

Shaking her head, Hermione didn’t want to believe his words even though she knew they were true. They fit with what she was beginning to realise about her parents. About herself. “It was you.” She frowned at him, unable to hide her anger. “It was you who wiped my parents memories away. All of them.” Regulus opened his mouth to reply. Hermione cut him off before he could utter a word. “It was _you_ who found some strangers and dropped a kid in their lap. Did you give them a false identity too along with a daughter?” Her hands were shaking.

“They were always Helen and Artie Granger,” Regulus replied after a moment. “They just needed to believe you were theirs.”

“I am theirs!” Hermione snapped at him. “They raised me. They've always been my parents and I have _always_ been their daughter.” She glared at him. “Where the hell were you? Hiding away as the world went to shit.” She slapped a stray tear off of her cheek. “Bloody Slytherin’s, always looking out for only yourselves,” she muttered as she tried to get a hold of her emotions.

“Bloody Gryffindor’s and your self-righteous rubbish,” Regulus sneered right back at her. “Let’s take a look at this shall we?” He didn’t wait for her consent before he plowed on. “Say I made it public that I survived the cave. Not only would I have Death Eaters knocking on my door tasked with killing me, I’d also have the Dark Lord himself wanting me dead, and then likely moving his Horcruxes when he was finished with invading my mind and learning all of my secrets. Horcruxes that I didn’t realise he had more than one or two of. He would’ve found out about you. About your mother. All of it.” He shook his head at her. “Say I was able to get protection — highly unlikely in those times, but I will humour you — I’d only be able to get protection from Albus _fucking_ Dumbledore!” He gestured wildly at her. “And look how well that turned out for my brother! _Twelve years_ in Azkaban prison all because he didn’t fit into the grand plan of that crackpot, old fool!”

Regulus glared at her. “TWELVE YEARS UNTIL HE GOT HIMSELF OUT OF THERE WITHOUT ANY HELP FROM HIS SUPPOSED FRIENDS! WITHOUT ANY HELP FROM THE SO-CALLED LEADER OF THE LIGHT!”

Hermione jerked slightly at his bellowing.

“And whatever for? He was dead a couple years later anyway.” Regulus jabbed a finger at her. Tears in his eyes. “Bloody Gryffindors. Never understanding the big picture; never seeing what is right in front of you. Your mighty Dumbledore played every one of you, and yet you all still refuse to see it. Stupid, stupid lions.”

Hermione huffed, tilting her chin up. “I’ll have you know that I was almost sorted into Ravenclaw. Practically had a hat stall.” Petty, but she was feeling awful.

Regulus snorted. “And if you had been, you wouldn’t have been caught up with Potter and his mess.”

“He never asked for it!” Now it was her turn to yell. “Do you honestly think Harry wants any part of this stupid war? It stole his parents from him. His godfather. His childhood.” She slapped away another stray tear. “He grew up with the bloody Dursley’s who locked him in a cupboard under the stairs like you Blacks do your house elves.” She took a sharp breath in, wincing from the pain. “He hates Dumbledore probably more than you do, you have no idea. _He. Hates. Him.”_ Her throat was aching. Burning. “Besides, he could’ve been sorted into Slytherin, he almost was as a matter of fact. Harry begged the hat to put him into Gryffindor because everyone that had introduced him to the magical world, namely Hagrid and Ron, carried on and on about how Slytherin was where all the evil wizards were from. He was eleven years old and just wanted to fit in. He wanted to be _good.”_ She paused. “That and Draco Malfoy was being a right prat apparently… as per usual.”

“That _prat_ saved both yours and Harry’s lives.”

A sniff. “Not Ron’s?” Molly would be devastated if one of her son’s was killed.

“He’s alive still too,” Regulus informed her quietly. “As are all the other prisoners that Narcissa and Draco helped flee. They’re at Shell Cottage according to Remus. Along with the Sword of Gryffindor apparently. Narcissa said that it seemed to be important.” He stood up from his chair and began inspecting the dozens of vials of potions on the dressing table.

“It’s what we used to destroy the Horcrux in the locket. There’s Basilisk venom on it,” Hermione informed him quietly. “If Harry and the others are at Shell Cottage, where am I?” she questioned him as he began grabbing a few vials.

“My home.” He handed her a small vial of Wiggenweld Potion. “For your throat,” he told her as she took the vial from him and watched as she gulped it down. He handed her another. “Blood-Replenishing Potion. You lost a lot of blood from the flogging. I had to toss out the clothing you had on.”

Hermione only hummed in response as she swallowed that potion too. She handed Regulus back the empty vials. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. Before…” Before they had gotten distracted from the mentioning of Harry and Dumbledore, she didn’t need to say. He was already nodding his head in understanding.

“It’s fine. It’s nothing I haven’t thought of before myself.” He sat back down in his chair. “I-I wasn’t ready to be a father back then. Was only eighteen. A stupid eighteen year old with a Dark Mark on my forearm and a psychotic mother and father breathing down my neck. Not to mention the Dark Lord getting more and more paranoid as days went on.” He sighed. “I knew I couldn’t do it alone, so I followed Helen and Artie Granger home from a Muggle hospital. She was in tears. They were talking about losing the baby. They were talking about giving up all together.” He looked down at his lap. “I needed to move quickly with the locket. I needed you gone… so I left you with them, modified your appearance and obliviated them. I planted false memories into their minds.”

“What about my birth mother?” Hermione wiped at her cheeks.

He frowned. “She died shortly after giving birth to you.” Factual. Emotionless. Cold.

“How?” Quiet. Uncertain.

Regulus merely shook his head, refusing to meet her gaze, before standing up once again from his chair. “You need to eat something. I’ll be back with some broth for you. We need to get your strength up again. You need to be ready to fight.” He paused and hesitated. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

Hermione let her tears fall freely as she watched him leave the room. Hiding her sobs behind her hands. She didn’t want to be here, but knew she didn’t really have the strength to leave. She hadn’t a clue where Shell Cottage was. Couldn’t remember what Fleur had told her before the wedding. 

She sniffed as she got her emotions back under control. Focusing. Thinking. They must’ve put their home under the Fidelius Charm.

Perhaps if she went to the Burrow, Molly and Arthur would take her in. 

She frowned. Thinking. She hadn’t a clue where the Burrow was either.

“Oh… _bloody hell,”_ Hermione muttered to herself as she waited for Regulus to return with her soup. “Stupid Fidelius.”

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Regulus as he re-entered her room carrying a tray holding two bowls of soup.

“I brought you some vegetable soup,” Regulus informed her as he placed the tray on the bed, straddling Hermione’s thighs. He grabbed his own bowl and settled back into his chair. “Eat up.” He gestured to her. “You need to build up your strength.”

She took a quick peek down at the bowl before focusing on Regulus once again. “How do I know it’s safe? That you haven’t poisoned it?”

“I beg your pardon?” Regulus was obviously shocked at her question. His mouth opened and closed a few times. “I’ve _not_ poisoned it,” he settled on. “I assure you, I have not poisoned your dinner. I swear it on my life.”

He looked hurt. Uncertain.

Hermione bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from blurting out an apology. She felt like her mind wasn’t all there just yet. _That_ and her recent experience with Bellatrix had her afraid to be around anyone from the Black family, let alone a Death Eater. Former or otherwise.

Taking a sniff of her soup as the steam wafted from the bowl, Hermione couldn’t hide her growling stomach. It smelled absolutely delicious. 

She shakily reached out a bandaged hand and awkwardly grasped the spoon. 

“I haven’t had any food for a few days,” she informed Regulus quietly. “Just snow and bark. A greasy bird or two.” She gently stirred her soup. “Harry and Ron had caught a fish just before we were captured by the snatchers. It was cooking on the fire. I-I think it would’ve been our first _real_ meal in well-over two weeks.” She swallowed. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep the soup down.”

“Just eat it slowly,” Regulus reassured her. “One spoonful at a time.”

Hermione nodded. She brought the spoonful of soup up to her mouth and tentatively took a sip.

She almost cried out as the soup coated her tongue. It was the tastiest thing she had had in _months._ She swirled it around her mouth before swallowing it, erasing the aftertaste of the numerous potions Regulus had poured down her throat as he healed her injuries.

“Alright?” Regulus asked her quietly as he took a spoonful of his own soup.

Hermione gave him a shaky nod of her head. She slurped another spoonful.

“How it’s it with your throat? Not too hot?”

Hermione focused on Regulus who was watching her closely. “It’s fine.” She frowned to herself. She was feeling guilty. “I apologise for my earlier words to you. About poisoning me.” She paused. “It was uncalled for.”

Regulus shook his head. “There is no need for you to apologise. You’ve been through a lot these last few months. You don’t know me at all, except for what my brother told you and what you were able to take away from my short _‘fuck you’_ note to the Dark Lord. I would’ve been cautious as well.” He sighed tiredly as he had a bit more of his soup. “How’s your head?”

“It feels off.” Hermione paused. “I just feel really sluggish and confused. Could Bellatrix have damaged my mind with her repeated cruciatus curses?”

Regulus shook his head. “It’s unlikely anything permanent. It’s more likely because you’re lacking in nutrients and have been for quite some time it sounds like.”

It sounded plausible and eased Hermione’s worry somewhat. She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost her mind. “Can you tell me more about my birth mother?” At Regulus’ pained expression she quickly compromised. “Can you tell me more about yourself then?”

Regulus cleared his throat. “What would you like to know?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Favourite subject?”

Regulus grinned at her question. “Defence. Potions was a close second.” He had a spoonful of his soup. “What about you?”

“I didn’t mind potions when Snape was teaching us, even if he was being an absolute git to us Gryffindors. Slughorn’s rubbish at it by comparison. But, my favourite class is Arithmancy.”

Regulus couldn’t hide his surprise. “What do you like about it?”

“The maths part of it,” Hermione informed him quietly. “I took Divination in third year… part of my third year, I mean, before I lost my temper and walked out one day. That class is absolute rubbish. But, with Arithmancy… it just makes better sense to me.”

“It’s a challenging class.” Regulus grinned at her. “I never took it myself, but knew a few others who did.”

“Who were your mates at school?” 

Regulus grimaced. “No one good.” He chuckled tiredly. “I hung around with Rosier, Wilkes, Avery, and Mulciber.” He paused. “Snape tagged along with us as well… but he’s a half-blood. I wasn’t very close to him as a result.”

“Do you still feel that way about half-bloods?” A beat. “Muggle-borns?”

Regulus slowly shook his head. “I don’t. But, I am well-aware I still have many prejudices given the way I was raised. It is something that I am more than willing to work on.” He had another spoonful of his soup. “Who are your mates?”

Hermione swallowed her soup. “Mostly just Harry and Ron. Ginny too. Neville.” She frowned. “So… Potter, Weasley, Weasley, and Longbottom for me. I didn’t really get along with my actual dorm mates very well.”

“No?”

Hermione shook her head.

“Who are they? The girls you shared a dorm with?”

“Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Fay Dunbar, and Alice Tolipan.” She shrugged. “It’s not that I didn’t get along with them… Fay and Alice were alright. I was just much closer with Harry and Ron.” 

“That happens. Personalities sometimes clash.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “I worked with Theo Nott quite often on various Arithmancy and Ancient Runes assignments. He’s alright too, although I’m not certain I’d go as far as to call us friends.” She paused as she took in Regulus’ surprised expression. “Our only association with each other was during class time and for school assignments. He was very particular about that.”

“That’s because his father is a Death Eater. One of the Dark Lord’s first followers.”

“I know.” Hermione had another spoonful of her soup.

“Was he respectful to you?” Regulus asked her.

“Yes. He was always respectful.” She cleared her throat. “He even apologised to me when Malfoy called me a Mudblood in my third year.”

“Draco called you that in your third year?” Regulus was obviously shocked.

Hermione snorted. “In my second, too. Fourth and fifth years as well.” She shook her head. “It usually happened when I got a better grade than him on one of our assignments.”

“I had no idea,” Regulus replied sadly.

“I realise he saved our lives at the Manor,” Hermione continued on. “Both him and Narcissa did. And I will be forever grateful for that. But, Draco Malfoy is still a tosser.”

Regulus nodded. “I apologise–”

Hermione held up her free hand, cutting him off. “I don’t need your apology. Draco is an adult. When this is all said and done, he can apologise to me himself.”

She started snickering after a moment. “We’re _cousins._ Does he know about…” She gestured to her hair.

Regulus scratched his chin as he wiped his grin off of his face. “I’m not sure if he would know specifically. Narcissa does, of course. But, Draco might not have been able to see your glamours being removed.”

“How long has Narcissa known?” Hermione was curious about the secrets Lady Malfoy was keeping.

Regulus looked down at his lap after he placed his empty bowl on the dressing table. “I informed her of you prior to us travelling to the cave. She knew of your first name and your birth date.”

There was silence for a few moments as Hermione digested the information. “How did you hide me from your mother? Sirius said she passed away in 1985. I’ve seen the Black Family Tapestry, I would’ve shown up there, correct?”

Regulus nodded, he was still looking at his lap. “One of the perks of being the Heir, and soon-to-be Head of the family is the ability to make adjustments to the tapestry. I performed a rather complicated ritual and spellwork on it a few months before I graduated Hogwarts that made sure to hide you away.” He met Hermione’s gaze once again. “I finished said ritual the night I left for the cave, sealing it with my date of death.” A pause. “It hid your mother’s identity as well. It hid everything.”

“Your mistakes.”

Regulus shook his head. “No. My light,” he corrected quietly. “You’re not a mistake. Neither was falling in love with your mother.”

Hermione sniffed. “Will you at least tell me her name?”

Regulus sighed. “Madeleine Erikson. Her mother was French, and her father was British. They went to Beauxbȃtons and Hogwarts, respectively. Met one another at St. Mungo’s; they were both healers in different departments apparently. Madeleine was half-blood. Her father was Muggle-born.”

“How did she die?”

Regulus cleared his throat. “We weren’t prepared well enough when she went into labour. There were complications.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I laid her to rest outside overlooking a small meadow and creek.”

“May I visit her?”

“Not until you’ve healed more.” Regulus took the tray and empty bowl of soup from her, and placed it on the dressing table. “I don’t think you can walk more than a few meters right now.”

He began inspecting her hands. Carefully unwrapping her Murtlap Essence saturated bandages and taking a close look at the numerous cuts on both the palms of her hands and the backs of them.

“I remember my fingernails cutting into my palms,” Hermione told him quietly. “But, how did I get the other cuts?”

Regulus hummed. “From the feather flogging spell. The same slashes are on your feet as well.”

_“Oh?”_ She couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Like I said earlier, I had to toss the clothing you were wearing in the bin. It was all destroyed; all slashed up and covered in blood and urine.”

Hermione couldn’t hide her embarrassment at her body’s reaction. She wrapped an arm around her midsection. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

Regulus shook his head. “I remember watching as seasoned Death Eaters wet themselves when Bellatrix had her way with them. It happens to everyone, not only you.”

Hermione nodded as she took in the clothing she was wearing. She was dressed in a man’s jumper and a pair of joggers. _Muggle._

She frowned. “Am I wearing your clothes?” She peered at Regulus as she waited for his response.

He nodded. “I figured they’d be nice and loose on you to not aggravate your wounds too badly.”

“They’re Muggle.” She raised a brow at him.

He chuckled. “Yes. I have a few Muggle items of clothing. I told you earlier that I am trying to rid myself of my prejudice.”

“Thank you.”

Regulus nodded. “It’s the least I can do.” He finished re-wrapping her hands and stood up to take a better look at the potion vials on the dressing table. “I’d like to give you a nutrient potion if that’s alright.”

“Of course.” She’d probably need a nutrient potion daily for a few weeks if her slightly emaciated appearance was anything to go by.

Regulus handed her a vial, which she took without comment. Downing the foul-tasting potion as quickly as possible and handed the empty vial back to him.

“How’s your stomach with the soup?”

“It’s good for now,” Hermione told him quietly. She was actually surprised she was able to keep everything down. 

She hid a yawn behind her hand. She was completely knackered.

“Did you want a Dreamless Sleep at all?”

Hermione shook her head. “I’ll pass on that one.”

Regulus nodded in understanding. “Did you need help getting to the bathroom at all? It’s just across the hallway from this bedroom.”

Hermione shook her head once again. “I don’t have to use the toilet.”

“I don’t think you should be walking too much right away,” Regulus informed her quietly. “If you _do_ need to use the toilet in the middle of the night, please just call out for me. I can carry you.”

“Alright.” Hermione's eyes felt heavy. She snuggled back against her pillow and tugged her blankets up to her shoulders.

“My bedroom is just next door. I’m only a few steps away,” Regulus told her as he grabbed the tray holding their dishes. “My home is safe. It is better warded than Gringotts.”

Hermione gave Regulus a sleepy grin. “Thank you again.”

Another nod from Regulus as he wandlessly extinguished his _lumos_ from before. Leaving only the soft light from the lantern on the opposite side of the dressing table.

“Good night, Hermione,” he said to her as he made his way towards the doorway.

“Good night, Regulus.” Hermione murmured. Blinking her eyes closed.

She was out in seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

“Did Sirius know you were alive before…” Hermione let her question drift off as she sat propped up in her bed, holding a warm bowl of porridge.

Regulus nodded, humming as he munched on his own breakfast. “Eventually. I was able to track him down after he had broken out of Azkaban. It was just after your school year started. He had been spotted not too far from Hogwarts; it made the _Daily Prophet.”_ He shrugged. “We didn’t actually sit down and talk until after your third year though.”

“Why not?” Hermione asked him after she swallowed a spoonful of porridge. Savouring the sweetness of the berries Regulus had added.

Smiling sadly, Regulus dropped his eyes to his lap. “Because he believed me to be an hallucination. He was sane enough to believe that his mind was playing tricks on him.” He cleared his throat. “Sirius wasn’t mentally stable when I first saw him. I didn’t wish for him to get captured, so I left. But not before I told him that if I really was an hallucination, I would still be the eighteen year old, mousy brother that he last saw during a Death Eater raid and not a man in my thirties.” He sighed. “Anyway, he sent me an owl in early July, asking if we could meet up and, after a bit of correspondence back and forth, we decided to catch up with one another here.” He paused. “It was the safest place for the both of us,” he said as he had another bite of his porridge, chewed for a moment and swallowed before continuing. “He wanted to know how the hell I disappeared and why.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I informed him that I disappeared after better comprehending what the Dark Lord was about. I told him that I had been having second thoughts about what I had naively agreed to when I was sixteen and had gotten the Dark Mark.” Regulus sighed. “I told Sirius that I had learned some things about the Dark Lord and was… fearful. I also informed him that I had a daughter. That I had hidden my daughter away with Muggles.” 

“Did he know it was me?” Hermione was curious. Sirius’ reactions to her during her stay at Grimmauld Place were at the forefront of her mind.

Regulus smirked. “Yeah. He insisted that I at least tell him your given name. When I did so, he laughed and said my kid was a lion who had aided a mass murdering felon in their escape from the Ministry.”

Hermione couldn’t prevent the grin from spreading on her face. After a moment or two of munching on her breakfast she frowned. “Does that disappoint you that I am a Gryffindor? I assume you knew of my House prior to Sirius teasing you.”

Regulus nodded in confirmation. “Narcissa informed me after Draco had complained about you during Winter Break in your first year.” He sighed before shaking his head. “I’m not disappointed that you’re a Gryffindor, I swear. I’m confused more than anything.”

Hermione furrowed her brow. “Confused?” It was an unexpected reaction.

A hum from Regulus. “I’m a Slytherin, through-and-through. Madeleine was a Hufflepuff. I don’t understand where the Gryffindor comes from, that’s all.”

“Perhaps it's how we are raised that determines where we are sorted, rather than our blood,” Hermione suggested after a moment. 

Regulus peered at her silently. She could practically feel his mind whirring from her statement. “Perhaps,” he conceded.

“Of course, that doesn’t account for Sirius being sorted into Gryffindor rather than Slytherin,” Hermione said after another spoonful of porridge.

“It does actually. He tried to protect me from our parents when we were growing up,” Regulus informed her quietly. “They enjoyed using the more _rudimentary_ punishments when one of us stepped a toe out of line. It’s why I know how to heal the wounds from the feather flogging curse.”

Hermione swallowed her breakfast. Uncertain about what she was supposed to say. “I-I’m sorry you had to go through that. W-With parents that…” She stuttered to a halt and peered uncertainly at Regulus who was watching her with an amused expression on his face.

“You’ve no reason to apologise,” he reassured her. “It is what it is.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. He couldn’t change the past and neither could she.

“Did you have an alright sleep?” He asked her after a moment, changing the topic.

Frowning, Hermione gave him a bit of a shrug as she stirred her porridge. “For a short while I did.” She swallowed. “I haven’t slept well in ages though. Not since…” She drifted off, not wanting to finish her sentence.

“Not since when?” 

Hermione sighed, annoyed with herself. “Since the Department of Mysteries.” She met Regulus’ concerned gaze. “After Dolohov hit me with his purple fire.”

Regulus’ eyes darkened. His jaw set. “How did you survive that? It’s a deadly curse even when poorly cast.”

“I was able to silence him,” Hermione said after clearing her throat. “I-I think that’s the only reason why I wasn’t hurt more. Or killed. Harry was able to throw up a shield in time when Dolohov used it on him later on apparently. He said it felt like a dull knife running across his face.”

“It was also likely weaker given he had just escaped from Azkaban,” Regulus informed her. “It took Sirius _months_ to get used to using a wand again.”

Dread pooled in her stomach. Dolohov had been out of Azkaban for far, far longer now. 

“Antonin is known to hold a grudge.” Regulus set down his bowl of porridge and rubbed his face. “At least, he was when we associated with the same types of people.”

“That would explain his ruthlessness when we bumped into him and Rowle in that café after fleeing the Burrow,” Hermione murmured quietly. “At least in part.” 

Regulus nodded in agreement. “I’ll teach you some curses to use if you ever find yourself facing him again.”

“Something dark?”

Regulus quirked his head as he began unravelling a bandage around her neck after taking her bowl and setting it aside. _“Well…_ it certainly won’t be something you learned in school,” he muttered quietly as his fingers brushed over her neck. “Your cuts aren’t healing here. They look a bit like someone grabbed you by the neck. What happened? How did you get them?”

Hermione’s fingers brushed over the abrasions. “Greyback.” She swallowed, her throat was tight. “He grabbed me and Apparated us to Malfoy Manor.”

She watched as Regulus frowned. “I’ll need to get in touch with Remus to see if there’s something that might work better than Murtlap Essence,” he muttered to her.

“How’re you going to do that?” Hermione asked him as he handed her a vial of nutrient potion. It took her a few seconds to gulp the liquid down.

Reaching into the pocket of his robe, Regulus pulled out a small item and waved it around. “With this. Sirius set it all up so we could keep in contact in case anything went awry.” He handed the item to Hermione.

She gasped as she took it in. It was a mirror, with beautiful filigree lining the weathered glass. “How many people are you in contact with? Sirius at one point, obviously. Remus…”

“Just Remus and Narcissa for now. The plan was to add Bill Weasley to the group, but we’ve never gotten around to it.” Regulus grabbed the bundle of wands and held them out for Hermione to choose from. “Grab your wand, point it at the mirror, and state ‘Remus Lupin’. He should appear if he isn’t too busy.”

Hermione reached for her vinewood wand and pointed it at the mirror. “Remus Lupin.”

She felt a gentle vibration from the mirror before her former Defence professor appeared. A warm grin lit up his face when he spotted Hermione.

“Hermione,” he rasped to her kindly. “How are you feeling?”

She gave him a shaky nod of her head. “Better. Regulus has been taking good care of me.” She scooted over on her bed and patted the mattress with her free hand, inviting her father to sit next to her.

The mattress dipped as Regulus settled beside her.

“Regulus,” Remus greeted him quietly.

“Remus,” Regulus returned the greeting. “Hermione has some wounds from Greyback that I’m not sure how to heal. Murtlap Essence isn’t working at all. Are you interested in stopping by to take a look? I can open up my floo and connect with your cottage.”

Hermione watched as Remus narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to get a better look at her. “He grabbed my neck and broke my skin with his nails,” she informed him quietly as she pointed to the lesions.

“Ah.” Remus nodded. “I can come by right now, if you’d like. Murtlap Essence won’t work by itself most of the time, unfortunately.”

“I’ll open my floo up,” Regulus said as he stood up from the bed and quickly left the room.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, Hermione,” Remus assured her before disconnecting from the mirror.

Hermione placed the mirror on the dressing table next to her empty bowl of porridge, and sat in wait for Remus to arrive.

There were a few moments of silence before the floo roared to life. Hermione straightened out her jumper and joggers just as Remus stepped into the room. Regulus following closely behind.

“Hermione,” Remus said with a warm smile as he bent over to give her a hug.

“How are you?” She asked him after they slowly peeled apart. “How’s Tonks? And the baby?”

Remus grinned at her as he transfigured up a second chair before taking a seat. He exhaled slowly. “I’m alright. Dora is doing well, but she’s tired of being pregnant. Her metamorphing is going a bit haywire right now.”

“The two of you have gotten back together?” Hermione wanted to make sure before making any assumptions.

Remus nodded. “After leaving Grimmauld Place I went back to Dora.”

Hermione couldn’t help but grin at the news. “Good.”

“Let’s take a look at your scratches,” he said after a moment. His fingers brushed gently on her still open wounds. “You’ve just used Murtlap Essence?” He asked Regulus who was watching the proceedings a few steps away.

Regulus nodded as he took a seat beside Hermione’s bed next to Remus. “Yeah. I applied some directly on the wounds and then soaked all of her bandages in it. It worked for the curse Bellatrix hit her with. That, and a strong _Episkey_ or two.”

“I’ve found that Burn-Healing Paste works wonders on lycanthropic scratches for some reason,” Remus informed the room. “And it isn’t too difficult to brew either.”

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Regulus muttered as he rubbed his chin. “Assuming I remember my homework assignments correctly. It’s been a while.” He gave Hermione a grin.

“You’ll still have scaring though,” Remus told Hermione after a moment. “You won’t be able to get rid of that. The cuts will just close up.”

“Because it’s Greyback,” Hermione murmured knowingly.

Remus nodded. “If it bothers you, I know a glamour spell or two that will work to hide the cuts temporarily.”

Hermione gave Remus a kind smile. “Thank you, Moony.” She sighed, looking between her former Defence professor and Regulus. “No comment about my appearance. I assume Regulus told you.”

Chuckling, Remus shook his head. “Sirius did actually. He gave me a letter around Christmas time during your fifth year. Told me to wait to open it until after he died. In the letter, he told me no one could know, especially Dumbledore. He said he didn’t trust Molly either with knowing about your true identity… but it was more of a personal distrust with her. He just didn’t like her much.”

“Now there’s a surprise,” Hermione said dryly to the men as she leaned back against the bedhead. “I think everyone who set foot in Grimmauld knew that those two didn’t care for one another.”

“I know that there’s some history between my family and the Prewett’s,” Regulus murmured quietly. “But, I’m certain Sirius wouldn’t have cared about any of that. Do you know why they didn’t care for one another?”

“Molly can be a bit… _overbearing.”_ Hermione grimaced. “It’s a bit much sometimes.”

Remus hummed in agreement. “She also liked to make quips about how he was an awful godfather for being locked up in Azkaban. She treated him like he actually was a mass murderer sometimes.”

“She’d make rude comments about Grimmauld Place, like it was Sirius’ fault that it had fallen into disarray.” Hermione shook her head. “Nevermind that Sirius had run away when he was sixteen.”

_“Merlin…_ what an unpleasant woman. She reminds me of _my_ mother.” Regulus sighed. “I can't wait to meet her.”

“Please behave,” Hermione begged him quietly. “I’m friends with her children.”

Regulus shook his head. “I won’t let her walk all over you, Hermione. I won’t let her try to set you up with one of her sons. Unless it’s something you want,” he added on hastily.

Hermione shook her head. “I’m not interested in any of them that way. Especially not Ronald.”

“What happened?” Remus questioned her.

“He can be a tosser sometimes.” Hermione shrugged. Not wanting to continue.

“Hermione… what happened?” Remus quietly asked her again. “Harry seemed a bit cold towards him as well when I stopped by Shell Cottage.”

Hermione sighed. “Ignoring the rubbish we had to put up with at Hogwarts? Ron left us just after we fled the Ministry with the locket. He came back to me and Harry a few weeks before we got captured by snatchers.” She swallowed. “Being around a Horcrux brings out the worst in people. To say that it was an unpleasant experience would be an understatement. Some words were said by both Ron and Harry. They’d gotten in a bit of a fight with one another. Ron said some horrible things about Harry’s parents, about Harry growing up without them. Harry told him to leave. He pushed him out of the tent and told him to run back to his mum like he always did.”

There was silence for a few moments as Remus came to terms with what Hermione told him. “That aside… Harry said you were able to destroy the locket.”

Hermione nodded as she reached for her beaded bag, grinning as it flew into her open hand. Her magic was more stable than it had been the night before. Reaching deep into the bag, Hermione pulled out the destroyed locket by its thin chain and handed it to Regulus who was reaching for it.

“Ron destroyed it with the Sword of Gryffindor. The sword has basilisk venom embedded in its blade.” Hermione cleared her throat. “Harry was on guard duty while I caught a few hours of sleep. He said that a doe Patronus led him to a pond. At the bottom of the pond was the Sword of Gryffindor. Harry forgot to take off the locket around his neck before he jumped into the pond. It reacted oddly to the sword. Ron jumped in and saved him.”

“A doe Patronus?” Remus questioned her alertly.

Hermione nodded. “That’s what Harry said.”

“Whoever cast it gave you three the sword,” Regulus muttered.

“And Bellatrix was certain that we had taken it from her vault,” Hermione told the men. “She kept asking me what else we took from her vault. I think she was worried.”

“You think another one of those things is in there?” Remus asked her as he gestured to the destroyed locket that Regulus was inspecting. “Another Horcrux?”

“Harry believes that You-Know-Who had a thing for collecting items from the Wizarding World. That’s Salazar Slytherin’s,” she said as she pointed to the locket. “The ring that Dumbledore destroyed just before our sixth year belonged to the Gaunts.”

“They’re an extinct pure-blood family,” Regulus muttered knowledgeably. “Why would the Dark Lord have something from them? As far as I'm aware, they died off due to significant inbreeding. They made us Blacks look sane _and_ distantly related in comparison.”

“Because the Gaunts lived near a rich Muggle family.” Hermione looked between Remus and Regulus. “The Riddle Family, to be specific.”

“Tom Riddle,” Remus muttered in understanding.

“Who’s that?” Regulus was looking between Remus and Hermione.

“You-Know-Who… that’s his real name.”

Regulus raised a single brow. “The Dark Lord’s a Half-Blood?”

Hermione nodded. “Yep. Named after his Muggle father, according to Harry.” She watched as Regulus slowly began to comprehend what she was telling him.

He snorted quietly, shaking his head. “What a fucking snake.”

“Are you surprised though?”

Regulus hummed. “Honestly? No… no, I’m not.” He sighed. “I don’t think he understood the relationship between House elves and their Masters. It’s what caught him out with Kreacher. He didn’t realise that my orders to Kreacher to return to Grimmauld Place after the cave overruled _everything_ else.” He frowned. “A pure-blood would know that. It’s practically ingrained in our culture.”

Remus cleared his throat. “Do you and Harry have any idea what the other Horcruxes are then? Do you know how many there are?”

Hermione hummed. “We know of the locket, ring, and diary for certain; the diary that Ginny wrote in during her first year.” At Remus’ nod, she continued, “You-Know-Who attaches special meaning to his Horcruxes, which can be seen in his family ring, his diary from when he was a boy at Hogwarts. Slytherin’s locket suggests that for the remaining Horcruxes, he’s likely picked something from the founders. Dumbledore mentioned to Harry that he believed that You-Know-Who had made seven in total.”

“So… something from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,” Regulus muttered. “Gryffindor too, perhaps?”

“Possibly,” Hermione conceded quietly.

“You disagree?”

“I’m not sure he got access to anything Gryffindor-related,” she tried to explain. “There’s the sword which is most definitely _not_ a Horcrux. What else is there?”

Remus frowned. “Diary, ring, locket, Hufflepuff item, and then some Ravenclaw item. Another item that may or may not be Gryffindor related. And then whatever else.” He sighed. “We’re not even close, are we?”

Hermione hummed. “I think one is the snake that attacked Mr. Weasley in the Department of Mysteries. And then...” she swallowed, not wanting to continue her train of thought. Her research into Horcruxes over the last few months had left her with an uneasy feeling.

“And then _what?_ What aren’t you saying?” Remus had picked up on her unease rather quickly.

“You-Know-Who controls that snake,” she muttered as she peered at both men. “Harry told me that during the attack on Mr. Weasley, it felt like he was the one carrying out the attack. That _he_ was the snake, and _he_ was biting Arthur.”

“Sirius mentioned to me that Harry believed he was going insane,” Regulus informed the small group. “During the Christmas when Arthur was attacked, Harry sought out Sirius, begging him for help because he thought he was going mad.”

There was a moment or two of silence as Remus digested the information.

“You both believe that Harry’s a Horcrux,” he said quietly to the two of them. 

Hermione shook her head. “From what I’ve read about Horcruxes, I think _his_ _scar_ is one.” She swallowed, her throat was tight with emotion. “I’ve got Dumbledore’s copy of _Secrets of a Darkest Art._ It-It talks about a lot of really _horrible_ things that I wish I'd never, ever read. There is a section about Horcruxes, specifically how to create them _and_ how to destroy them.” There was a short pause as she took a deep breath. “I honestly believe You-Know-Who accidentally created one the night he tried to kill Harry when he was a baby, when he killed Harry’s parents. I think his soul was unstable from his earlier experimentation. He had already made a fair number of Horcruxes by that time,” she reminded the men.

“How do we remove his scar?”

“I’ve no idea,” Hermione murmured quietly. “There is no information anywhere about a Horcrux attaching to a living person. Even a snake. The only information I’ve found on them talks about them attaching to objects.” She cleared her throat. “The objects are destroyed a certain way. That’s how the Horcruxes are destroyed.”

“Perhaps,” Remus sighed. “Perhaps Bill will know something. Something less violent. Less deadly.” He looked between Hermione and Regulus. “Can I bring up the Horcruxes with him?”

“I don’t see why not. He is a curse-breaker after all.” Regulus crossed his arms across his chest and scratched at his chin. “We need to figure out a way to get into the Lestrange vault. It would make sense that there’s a Horcrux in there somewhere, Bella has always been the Dark Lord’s favourite.”

“You’re thinking it’s either the Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw object in there?” Hermione asked.

Regulus nodded. “I do.”

“I’m not entirely familiar with folklore about the different founders,” Hermione muttered quietly. “But, I’m certain I know of someone who is.”

Remus frowned. “Who?”

“Luna Lovegood.” Hermione took a quick breath. “I assume she's still at Shell Cottage. Regulus mentioned earlier this morning that she was one of the prisoners at the Manor.” At Remus’ nod of his head, she continued, “It wouldn’t hurt to ask her about Rowena Ravenclaw.”

Remus nodded slowly. “I’ll do that. It’ll give me an excuse to talk to Bill without rousing too much suspicion from Harry.”

“Bill will need time to figure out all he can in regards to Harry’s scar. Hermione and I will start training tomorrow or the next day,” Regulus informed Remus. “Dolohov has taken a notice of her that she needs to be prepared for.”

“Because I survived his purple fire curse,” Hermione told him softly.

“Of course.” Remus nodded once again. “He’s got a reputation.”

“Indeed.”

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

“Dinner table or sofa?” Regulus asked Hermione as she exited the bathroom. 

Hermione tucked her hand in Regulus’ offered elbow and hummed for a moment as they slowly made their way down the hallway. “I wouldn’t mind sitting at the dinner table. I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

“Alright.” Regulus jiggled his left wrist before taking a look at his watch. “Numby should have dinner almost ready, it’s nearly six o’clock.”

_“Numby?”_ Hermione came to a halt just as they reached the door leading into the kitchen. “You’ve got an elf?” She peered up at Regulus, waiting for his response.

He sighed as he looked down at his feet for a second or two before meeting her gaze once again. “I do. I promise you that she is treated very well. I’ve had her since the cave, Narcissa had purchased her to help take care of me while I healed. Numby helped save my life, Hermione.” He frowned at her. “Don’t try to lecture me about something you can’t possibly understand about pure-blood culture. House elves are a part of our way of life. They always have been.”

Hermione swallowed tightly at the reprimand. “The Weasley’s don’t have an elf.”

Regulus raised a brow at her. “The Weasley’s elf probably died of old age. They were likely unable to afford another one given their circumstances. The Potter’s definitely had an elf. They’re one of the oldest Wizarding families around. Their elf most likely perished in the explosion when the Dark Lord attempted to kill Harry.”

“But… you said elves are a part of _pure-blood_ culture,” Hermione insisted as she placed her hands on her hips. “The Potter’s aren’t pure-blood, Harry’s a half-blood.”

Regulus pushed open the door to the kitchen as he chuckled quietly at her rebuttal. He gestured to Hermione to enter before him. “The Potter’s _were_ pure-blood up until James married Lily. They just happened to have a more egalitarian stance on blood purity than a lot of families and weren’t included in the Sacred Twenty-Eight as a result. Many families aren’t included in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Hermione. That doesn’t mean they aren’t pure-blood.” He pulled out a chair and pointed for Hermione to sit. “Have a seat. I’ll see if Numby is ready with our food.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he made his way over to the hob where a tiny, well-dressed house elf was standing on a stool, puttering away.

Hermione huffed quietly as she settled on her chair and watched as Regulus bent over to speak with the little elf.

“Ten minutes, Master Regulus!” The little elf squeaked as she stirred a large steaming pot.

“Sounds good,” Regulus muttered to the elf before joining Hermione at the table. He clasped his hands together as he sat directly across from her, and gave Hermione a thoughtful look. “I’d like to begin training you in the dueling arts. I feel like the final fight with the Dark Lord will be rather,” he paused as he searched for the right word, _“large scale_ given the number of supporters he has accumulated since he’s officially come back.”

Hermione frowned at the change in topic. She wasn’t finished speaking to Regulus about the treatment of house elves in the Wizarding World. She opened her mouth, preparing to argue with him some more when he held up a hand, stopping her before she even got started.

“That conversation is finished.” He looked at her pointedly. “I will not be discussing house elf rights with you when you refuse to listen to them yourself.”

Hermione swallowed, chastised once again. She gave Regulus a curt nod of her head.

“Training,” Regulus prompted her.

Clearing her throat, Hermione thought back to Regulus’ earlier statement. “I’m open to learning from you about dueling. Defence was never my strongest subject. But… we’ve still got to destroy the rest of his Horcruxes before the battle can happen. We’re not even close to being ready.”

“I know. You still need to learn how to fight though. Your Defence professors have been absolute rubbish for the most part.”

“Remus was good.”

“He was,” Regulus conceded understandingly. “But, he taught you in your third year. It’s been quite a while.”

“I dare say that Snape was decent as well.” Hermione scratched her newly-healed, yet still itchy neck as she thought of her sixth year. “He was a complete arse though. Unsurprisingly.”

“What did he teach you?”

Hermione looked down at the weathered mahogany table and traced her fingers over a large gash in the wood. “Nonverbal spells for the most part. We weren’t allowed to say the incantations out loud for the majority of the year, he’d ridicule anyone who did so. He focused on practical lessons during class time and then assigned theoretical homework.” She sighed as she thought of the class. “I believe we officially learned how to shield in our sixth year as well.”

Regulus nodded slowly. “What about Unforgivables? When I was a student, we learned about the Unforgivable Curses in our sixth year.”

“Moody — well Crouch Jr., I suppose — taught us those in our fourth year. He demonstrated each Unforgivable on an unsuspecting spider.” Hermione furrowed her brow as she thought back to that time. “Harry demonstrated resisting the Imperius Curse that year — which looking back with a bit of hindsight, was most likely a test by You-Know-Who.” She swallowed, her throat was still feeling a little scratchy after everything she’d been through the last few days. “Um… Snape taught the rest of us how to resist that particular Unforgivable when he was professor. He also touched on the Cruciatus Curse. Theoretically, of course.”

“About what, specifically?”

Clearing her throat, Hermione continued to brush her fingers over the gash in the table. “He taught us how to keep our heads for as long as possible. How to withstand, or ignore, the pain.” She looked up from the table and met Regulus’ knowing gaze. “I can honestly say that I completely forgot everything I was taught when Aunty Bella had her way with me.”

Regulus nodded. “She has that effect on people.”

Numby brought them their steaming bowls of stew. “Your dinner, Master Regulus and Missy Hermione!”

“Thank you, Numby,” Regulus said to the elf as she hobbled away.

“Thanks Numby,” Hermione murmured quietly as she grabbed her spoon. Her stomach was growling. It smelled exquisite. 

“You mentioned the other day that you’ll be teaching me things that I haven’t learned in school. What did you specifically have in mind?” She asked Regulus after a few minutes of silence as they enjoyed their food.

“Hexes that are on the grey end of Dark Magic,” Regulus told her quietly after he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Perhaps a few jinxes as well.”

Hermione frowned. “Where will we be sparring?” Regulus’ home was quite small. A lot smaller than she expected from the Head of the House of Black.

“I’ve got a room in the basement set up for a bit of sparring. My potions laboratory is down there as well.” Regulus munched on his last spoonful of stew before continuing. “I’m not familiar with your dueling style. I’d like to see you in action to determine if there’s something I can help you with in order to help you feel more comfortable with Defence.”

“I’m alright with it,” Hermione insisted quietly. “It’s just not my favourite class, that’s all. I mean… I survived the Department of Mysteries and fought off Dolohov and Rowle at that café last summer. I _can_ hold my own.”

Regulus raised a brow at her comment as Numby brought them a teapot and mugs on a tray before clearing their empty bowls. “You almost died at the Ministry, Hermione. You merely survived out of sheer luck.” He frowned as he began pouring the two of them some tea. “But, I’ll concede the café. The three of you did very well there.” He gave her a tired look. “How do you like your tea?”

“With a splash of milk, please.” Hermione watched as Regulus finished fixing up her tea before handing her her mug. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Hermione frowned as she took a tentative sip of her tea. “How’re we going to get into the Lestrange vault to get the Horcrux that’s most likely in there?”

“I’m waiting for Narcissa to get in touch with me. Given everything that’s happened over these last few days, it may be awhile before it’s safe for her to do so.” Regulus had a sip of his tea. “I’ve got a batch of Polyjuice Potion in my laboratory downstairs. With Narcissa’s help, I believe we can enter into the Lestrange vault without anyone knowing.”

“You think she’ll be able to get a strand of Bellatrix’s hair?” It would be risky. The witch in question _was_ psychotic after all.

Regulus shook his head. “Not Bellatrix, no. Rabastan or Rodolphus is who I was thinking of stealing a bit of hair from.”

_“Oh?”_

“I’ve still got my Death Eater regalia and I am well-aware that the Lestrange brothers are proudly wearing their own in public,” Regulus began to explain quietly. “I was thinking I could get into the vault, find the Horcrux, and then get the hell out of there before the Polyjuice Potion wears off.”

“Don’t the goblins check your identity?” She herself had to give them her wand for examination every time she and her parents went to Gringotts to take money out of her own account.

Regulus frowned as he shook his head. “They don’t check pure-bloods usually. A lot of the more traditional families found it insulting that the goblins asked each time they went into the bank. I figure that it’d be a good idea to use our arrogance against us for once.” He sighed. “Gringotts has other security measures in place, of course. But, I will be able to get into the vault without any issue. It’s leaving that might be a bit tricky.”

“I’ll go with you then. Two heads are better than one when getting out of tricky situations, I find.” Hermione shook her head at her father before he could get a word out. “I am not waiting for you here, Regulus. I’ll go with you.”

“Before that can happen, we’ll need to prepare.”

~ | ~

Hermione exhaled slowly as she took in the dueling room in the basement of Regulus’ home. The walls and floor were both made of thick stone, much like Hogwarts was. There were a half dozen dueling dummies lined up against the far wall with scuffed targets on their bodies. The walls, floor and ceiling were all littered with numerous scorch marks.

There was a door leading into what Hermione assumed was the potions laboratory tucked underneath the stairs and away from the threat of any potential damage.

Finishing her inspection, Hermione came to a stop in the centre of the room and peered at Regulus who was watching her closely.

“Alright?” He asked her quietly.

Hermione gave him a nod of her head as she tugged her wand out of the pocket of her jeans. “Yeah. It’s just… the last time I was technically in a dueling room was during my second year with Lockhart. That was in the Great Hall.”

Surprise etched Regulus’ face. That, and amusement. “And how did that go for you? Lockhart was a Ravenclaw student a few years younger than me, I believe.”

Hermione snorted. “It went as well as one can imagine with that man as a professor. There was only one dueling exercise before it was quickly cancelled by the Headmaster. Lockhart got his arse handed to him by Snape in front of most of the school and then afterwards Harry spoke Parseltongue to the snake that Malfoy unleashed on him.”

Regulus’ loud bark of laughter echoed in the roomy basement. “Was Snape the one to suggest to Malfoy to use _serpensortia_ with Harry? He always was a dramatic shithead.” At Hermione’s nod in confirmation, Regulus narrowed his eyes and frowned. “He probably did it to test Harry.”

_“Oh?”_ Hermione couldn’t hide her surprise.

Humming, Regulus nodded slowly. “When I was a foolish Death Eater along with Severus, the Dark Lord enjoyed having snakes around to keep him company during major Death Eater gatherings. He would… _talk_ to them sometimes, hiss at them. And occasionally after he did that the snakes would attack whoever the Dark Lord was most displeased with.” He shuddered. “It was horrifying to watch.”

Hermione frowned at the picture Regulus painted of his short time as a Death Eater. “You were younger than I am now when you first got marked,” she murmured quietly, remembering what he had told her a few days earlier.

“I was. But, at the time I believed in what he was selling.” Regulus unclipped his wand from the holster on his left forearm. “If you really think about it... it’s really no different than Dumbledore getting a bunch of kids fresh out of Hogwarts to fight this war the first time around.” He grinned at Hermione as he slowly stalked around her and the room. “Of course he was always there to pick up the pieces though, as long as those pieces worked in his favour. If not, he’d just toss them aside like a piece of rubbish.”

Hermione huffed as she gripped her wand tighter. “At least Dumbledore doesn’t believe in pure-blood supremacy.” She fired off a nonverbal Jelly-Legs Jinx at Regulus who was able to easily block it, sending it ricocheting into the nearby wall.

“He doesn’t?” Regulus quirked his head at her, grinning.

“No.” 

_“Oh…_ so the outdated Muggle Studies classes and the complete lack of classes on etiquette for Muggle-borns and half-bloods… you don’t think that has anything to do with pure-blood supremacy?” He twirled his wand in his right hand as he spoke.

Furrowing her brow, Hermione took a step back from Regulus. “How’d you know about Muggle Studies? I highly doubt you took them when you were a boy.”

“I didn’t… but your mum did. She thought they were rubbish.” Regulus gave her a pointed look. “She said it was twenty years behind the times when she took the class in her third year. _At least._ That, and a lot of the things taught were just wrong.” He paused. “Has the Headmaster changed anything since then?” 

Hermione could only shake her head.

“How about with the Houses?” Regulus began stalking around the room once again. “Still Gryffindor versus Slytherin, I presume. Surely one who is so incredibly focused on defeating the pure-blood supremacists would at least _try_ to mitigate the division between Wizarding families during their time spent at Hogwarts, no?”

Hermione frowned at the points Regulus made. They were the same points that Harry had repeatedly brought up during the freezing nights they’d spent together in the forest. “But… why would he encourage such a thing?” She cast a nonverbal _furnunculus_ at him, followed quickly by a strong Knockback Jinx.

Regulus stumbled slightly as the second jinx just barely grazed his shoulder. He had a wide grin on his face. “For his own purposes, I’m sure.” He rolled his shoulder, checking to make certain it wasn’t injured. 

“For his _Greater Good,_ you mean.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “He wanted to make the good guys seem better. He wanted to be seen as the hero… as the leader of the light.”

“Perhaps,” Regulus conceded quietly as he sent a nonverbal _stupefy_ Hermione’s way that she easily deflected. “He’s already seen as the leader of the light though. Do you know why?”

“Grindelwald,” Hermione gasped as she sent a few more jinxes Regulus’ way. “Or is it because of the outcome of the first war with You-Know-Who?”

“A bit of both, most likely.” Regulus grinned at Hermione as he signaled that they were finished their practise dueling. He clipped his wand back into his holster as Hermione tucked her own wand back in the pocket of her jeans. “He was a fantastic politician.”

Hermione stood with her hands on her hips, nodding in agreement. “Why am I so tired?” she whined after a moment. She felt like she needed to have another snooze.

“Because you were tortured within an inch of your life, silly girl,” Regulus said to her as he took her in for an unexpected hug.

Hermione tensed for only a moment before wrapping her arms around his torso and returning his hug. She sighed tiredly. It had been far too long since she’d been held by someone. She and Harry had stopped as soon as Ron had returned, afraid that he’d blow up at them once again for showing each other affection.

“How’d I do?” She asked Regulus after a moment, nuzzling her head against his shoulder.

“Alright.” A hand started smoothing out her hair. “I noticed a few areas that need to be worked on, but we can begin learning new spells rather quickly.”

Hermione blinked open her eyes and peered up at Regulus. “What areas?” She thought she did quite well overall, considering the circumstances. 

Regulus hummed as she pulled back from the hug. He had a small grin on his face. “Just small areas… nothing major, I promise.”

“But… what areas?”

Shaking his head, Regulus gestured for Hermione to lead the way up the stairs. “We’ll work on it tomorrow,” he told her as they made their way to the ground level of the home. “I promise it’s easily fixable.”

Hermione huffed, her mind was worrying with what she had done wrong.

~ | ~

Regulus hid a yawn behind his hand as he stepped into his bedroom after seeing Hermione to bed. He started slightly before reaching for his two-way mirror that was vibrating in his cloak pocket.

“Cissa,” he greeted his cousin as soon as she appeared. She was giving him a tight smile as she peered at him. 

“Regulus,” she quietly returned the greeting, signaling to him that it was safe to talk.

He couldn’t help but notice the bruising along her neck, as well as a swollen lip and puffy eye. It was as if someone had strangled and beaten her. Repeatedly. “Who?” He blurted out before he could stop himself.

Narcissa raised a brow at him. “Who do you think, Reggie?”

“Thelonius Nott,” Regulus seethed. 

“I’ve got an elf gathering some potions for me as we speak. I will be fine.” She swallowed, wincing slightly. “I can assure you, Thelonius will get his comeuppance.”

Regulus nodded. He’d make sure of it, too.

“What did you need?” Narcissa asked him after a moment of silence.

Regulus sighed. “A bit of hair from someone. I need to get into the Lestrange vault.”

“To find whatever it was that my lovely sister thinks the children stole from her.” Narcissa was nodding in understanding. “Do you have a preference?”

“Rabastan or Rodolphus is preferred. I’ve still got my regalia on me.”

Narcissa gave him a slow grin, her eyes were alight and knowing. “How unfortunate for them that they take pride in standing with the Dark Lord.”

Humming in agreement, Regulus smirked. “Indeed.”

“I’ll see to it and get you one of the Lestrange brothers’ hair.” Narcissa frowned. “They aren’t at the Manor currently, but do visit from time to time.”

“Please be careful.” Regulus looked at her pointedly through the mirror.

“Of course.” Narcissa smiled, waving off his concern. “I’ll let you know once I’ve obtained it. I must go now, Reggie. Be safe.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Have you got any clothing that isn’t obviously Muggle?” Regulus broke the silence in the cozy drawing room.

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading and gave the man a confused, and slightly indignant look. “I beg your pardon?” She’d let him explain himself before snapping at him about whatever pure-blood traditions he apparently wanted to sprout at her tonight. She was still somewhat irked with him for shutting down her arguments on house elf treatment in the wizarding world a few days earlier.

Regulus frowned. “I apologise. My choice of words wasn’t appropriate.” 

Hermione merely raised a brow at him.

Regulus cleared his throat, before trying once again. “I was pondering over our upcoming mission at Gringotts and was curious if you had any sort of clothing that could pass for something that a pure-blood witch would wear. I’ve only ever seen you wearing items that are undoubtedly Muggle.” He gestured to her jeans and oversized jumper.

Shaking her head, Hermione closed her book and placed it gently on the coffee table. “I haven’t got anything other than my school uniform, which I purchased at Madam Malkin’s. I’ve liked a few of the outfits displayed there over the years, but I wasn’t certain if it would be proper for me to wear them, being Muggle-born. And I wouldn’t have anywhere to wear them other than at Hogwarts. It never seemed all that worth it.” She cleared her throat, thinking. “I _did_ also purchase my dress there for the Yule Ball in fourth year. But, that’s hardly a Horcrux-hunting outfit.”

“You’ll need something to wear then,” Regulus told her. “Something from Twilfitt and Tattings. I don’t think Madam Malkin’s is open anymore. It wasn’t the last time I was in Diagon Alley.”

_“Oh no.”_

Regulus waved off her concern. “I’m sure it’ll reopen eventually. I’ve not heard anything about the owner being killed. She’s likely decided to go into hiding.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll have Numby place the order.”

He called out for his house elf, who appeared with a soft pop.

“Yes, Master Regulus.” Numby bowed lowly before straightening and giving him a grin as she fixed her little dress.

“Hermione needs an outfit suitable for dueling.” He peered at Hermione as he frowned in thought. “Something that’ll pass as an outfit for a potential Death Eater recruit who’s yet to be marked. Twilfitt and Tattings should have something appropriate. Please get them to put it on my account.” He gave the elf a pointed look before she popped away with her new task.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the exchange. “What’re you thinking?”

Regulus gave her a sly grin. “Rabastan or Rodolphus showing the new recruit their big pile of gold as a way to impress her.”

Hermione snickered. _“Seriously?”_

Regulus chuckled, nodding slowly. “Indeed.”

“Rodolphus is married though. To Bellatrix,” Hermione reminded him quietly. “What if you get _his_ hair from Narcissa? I highly doubt she’d be all that pleased if her husband was fooling around on her.”

“It’s a loveless marriage. Bellatrix doesn’t care who he beds.” Regulus shook his head. “Most pure-blood marriages are that way, the arranged ones at least.”

“Arranged ones?”

“Betrothal arrangements between pure-blood families,” Regulus elaborated slightly. “They’re not too popular any longer. But, when I was a child they were all the rage, at least in the House of Black.” He frowned as he rubbed his chin in thought. “Bellatrix and Rodolphus were married just after they finished Hogwarts. Andromeda was supposed to marry Amycus Carrow, but she eloped with Ted Tonks about a week before the bonding ceremony with the Carrow family was supposed to take place.”

“Which resulted in her being disowned,” Hermione murmured quietly. Remembering the story Sirius told her during the summer before her fifth year.

“It did.” Regulus had a subtle smirk on his face. “It was very controversial that a child of the House of Black went against the family’s wishes.”

“Why did Sirius get disowned?” Hermione asked her father. “Was it the same reason as Andromeda? He never did say… always changed the topic as a matter of fact.”

Regulus shook with quiet laughter. “No, not really.” He cleared his throat. “Sirius was already walking a fine line because he’d been sorted into Gryffindor. He would also go out of his way to anger mother and father any chance he got. He had a betrothal arrangement with the Burke family. Belvina and Herbert’s granddaughter, Isamelda Burke. But, I know that it was never anything more than an arrangement. They both weren’t of age yet.”

“So… why did he get disowned then?”

Regulus sighed. “Quite simply, he refused to be marked. Sirius humiliated mother and father after they’d arranged a _ridiculous_ ceremony in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.” He frowned. “I believe they thought that because Sirius had attempted to kill Snape a month earlier that he had seen the errors of his blood-traitor ways. The fact that he tried to use Remus to do the deed supported that assumption.”

“Because he’s a werewolf.” Hermione sadly shook her head.

“In order for the Dark Mark to set properly, the recipient must truly believe in the cause,” Regulus told her quietly. “Pure-blood supremacy, the idea that the Dark Lord was our saviour of sorts. All of it.” He gave Hermione a tight smile. “Sirius obviously didn’t believe in any of that rubbish. So, when he was held down by mother and father as the Dark Lord burned his mark into his forearm, it wouldn’t take.”

“His body rejected it,” Hermione muttered.

“Precisely.” Regulus rubbed his chin in thought. “That particular characteristic of the Dark Mark is one of the reasons why Dumbledore and his Order had such a difficult time during the first Wizarding War. The only way they could gain information from that side was if they stumbled across a Death Eater who, after receiving the Dark Mark, got cold feet and balked.”

“Like Snape?” Hermione questioned.

Regulus nodded slowly. “Perhaps.” He sighed. “But… the Dark Lord may have assigned him to gain Dumbledore’s trust. It certainly seems that way now with everything that’s happened over the last year or so.”

~ | ~

_“Send the boys down to the cellar,” Bellatrix ordered the room as she gave Hermione a sick, twisted grin. “This bitch and I are going to be spending some quality time together catching up… girl to girl.”_

_Hermione screamed as the crazed witch hit her with the cruciatus curse._

_She wailed as her flesh ripped open. Sobbed as her blood dripped into a puddle on the floor._

_Hands gripped her shoulders and shook her roughly._

Hermione’s eyes shot open in panic, coming face-to-face with Regulus who was crouched over her as she lay, tangled in her blankets, on her bed. _“Papa,”_ she sobbed before breaking down completely.

“Just breathe,” Regulus reminded her as she sat up in her bed and held on tightly to her knees. He began running his hand up and down her back, attempting to soothe her. 

_Inhale._

Tears streamed down Hermione’s cheeks as Regulus wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

_Exhale._

“Again,” Regulus muttered as he ran his left hand through her tangled mass of curls.

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath and counted to ten before exhaling as she got her heart rate back under control.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Regulus asked her after a few minutes of silence.

Shaking her head, Hermione sniffed and wiped her tears from her cheeks. “No.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be fine. It was just a bad dream.”

“It may help to talk with someone,” Regulus insisted quietly. “This isn’t the first nightmare you’ve had, Hermione.”

“It’ll pass, I promise,” Hermione argued tersely. “It’s just because it's so recent.” She sniffed once again. “I’m feeling better already,” she lied to Regulus as she pulled away from him.

“Hermione–”

“I’d like to go back to sleep,” Hermione cut her father off before he could argue. “I need my rest if we’re going to win this fight.”

She watched as Regulus removed his arm from around her shoulders and peered down at his lap. His disappointment and uncertainty seemed to be rolling off him in waves.

“Of course.” He sighed, resigned, and slowly rose to his feet. “We can practise some more in the morning.”

Hermione nodded. “I’d like that.”

She watched as Regulus hesitantly left her room, held her breath as he gently closed her bedroom door, and wept silently into her hands as she heard him make his way down the hallway.

~ | ~

“Hold,” Regulus barked at her in the makeshift dueling room in the basement. 

Hermione took a step back from him and lowered her wand.

Regulus clipped his own wand back in the holster on his forearm and reached into his cloak pocket, pulling out his two-way mirror. “Narcissa,” he greeted her curtly.

Hermione made her way closer to Regulus, wanting to listen in on the conversation.

“Regulus. Hello, Miss Granger,” Narcissa greeted her warmly with a knowing smirk and a nod of her head.

“Lady Malfoy,” Hermione returned her greeting as she wiped the sweat from her brow.

“I’ve got the hair you wanted, Regulus,” Narcissa got right down to business. “Rabastan’s hair to be specific. I do hope that’s alright.”

Regulus hummed, nodding. “It is. It’s perfect.” He cleared his throat. “I trust there was no trouble.”

Narcissa waved off his concern. _“Merlin, no._ Rabastan is a fool.” She pursed her lips. “I will need something in return though. For payment, you must understand.”

“What would that be?”

“Draco’s wand.” Narcissa focused her attention on Hermione. “I’ve given him my own to take with him back to Hogwarts, and as a result of that, both Lucius and I are without wands of our own.”

“It’s the one made out of hawthorn wood, correct?” Hermione asked Lady Malfoy.

“It is.”

“How soon can we meet?” Regulus asked his cousin.

“Today.” Narcissa frowned. “I don’t see any reason to prolong the inevitable. Unless there is something on your end that you’re waiting for.”

Regulus looked at his watch. “Thirty minutes?”

“See you then.” Narcissa disappeared from the mirror.

“Where are you going to meet?” Hermione asked Regulus as they quickly made their way up the stairs.

“The Manor,” Regulus told her before stopping abruptly once he reached the drawing room. He reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out the mirror once again. “Remus?”

“I’ve just come back from speaking with Harry,” Remus rasped tiredly. “Dora had the baby late last night.”

Hermione squealed in delight as she peered excitedly into the mirror. “Congratulations, Remus! I’m so happy for you!”

The man grinned and nodded as he chuckled. “Thanks, Hermione.”

“What’s the baby’s name?” Regulus asked.

“Edward Lupin,” Remus told him with a smile. “Teddy for short, after Dora’s father.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “But, that’s not the only reason why I called you.” 

_“Oh?”_

“No.” Remus cleared his throat. “Harry mentioned that Dumbledore left Hermione a children’s storybook in his will.”

“Yes, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard,”_ Hermione informed him. “Harry was especially interested in the _Tale of the Three Brothers.”_

“Why?” Regulus asked her, looking between Remus on the mirror in his hand and Hermione standing next to him. “It’s a children’s story. An ancient children’s story, passed down in many pure-blood and half-blood families.”

“The Deathly Hallows,” Remus said in a hushed whisper. “The Resurrection Stone, Invisibility Cloak, and the Elder Wand. Harry told me that he has two of the three of them, and I have to say, I agree with him entirely.”

“He just needs the wand.” Hermione blinked in shock. “The snitch that Dumbledore gave Harry. He thinks the stone is hidden in there, doesn’t he?”

“He does.”

“And the cloak?” Regulus asked in confusion.

Hermione raised a brow in amusement. “Passed down from father to son.”

Remus chuckled. “There’s a reason Sirius, James, Peter and I got away with setting up most of our pranks, Regulus. That cloak has been passed down in the Potter family for _centuries.”_

“What about the Elder Wand? I assume Harry believes he knows who carries it now.”

Remus grimaced. “He said You-Know-Who has already gotten it. Riddle has apparently recently raided Dumbledore’s grave and stole his wand.”

_“But?”_

“But… Harry said it doesn’t belong to him. He said that legend states that the wizard must rightfully _defeat_ the owner of the Elder Wand in order to wield its true power,” Remus waited in silence for Hermione and Regulus to comprehend what he wasn’t saying.

_“Draco,”_ Hermione said in a hushed whisper. “He defeated Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower. Disarmed him.” Her eyes darted to Regulus. “Harry said that Draco disarmed the Headmaster and then Snape killed Dumbledore shortly afterwards.”

_“Shit.”_ Regulus rubbed his face. “So Draco is its Master?”

Remus nodded. “And the wand that You-Know-Who is currently wielding won’t be working quite right for him, as it doesn’t rightfully belong to him.”

“It’ll be his downfall.” Regulus chuckled darkly. “If I give Draco’s wand to Narcissa, it won’t mess anything up, will it?”

Remus frowned, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t believe so.”

“Have you spoken to Bill about Harry?” Hermione couldn’t help but ask.

Remus nodded. “Bill thinks that Basilisk venom might work. But, he’s quite sure it’ll kill Harry.” He cleared his throat. “Harry mentioned that destroying the locket was violent. That it fought back, as did the diary.” He frowned. “Bill believes it’ll tear apart Harry’s mind. He’s done a ridiculous amount of research on the subject and knows that the longer a Horcrux is embedded in an object, the more difficult it will be to remove it without causing damage to the object – or person, in Harry’s case.”

“Perhaps we can figure something else out when the time comes,” Hermione suggested quietly. “There’s got to be another way. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

It was a thin thread of hope that Hermione was grasping onto, she knew it and so did Regulus and Remus.

Regulus nodded slowly. His eyes were disbelieving as he peered at Hermione. “Perhaps,” he conceded. He sighed and rubbed his face. “I’m just about to meet with Narcissa. She’s gotten Rabastan’s hair.”

“You want me to give word to the Order that we need to be ready in case anything goes awry?” Remus asked him.

“I do.” Regulus nodded curtly. “I’ll get back to you in about an hour before Hermione and I hit the Lestrange vault.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Remus signed off.

Regulus tucked his mirror back in his pocket and peered at Hermione standing next to him. “You need to get dressed.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll be ready when you get back from the Manor.”

~ | ~

Hermione knelt before the small headstone of Madeleine Erikson overlooking the winding creek in the rear garden of Regulus’ unassuming home. The air was still crisp, being the beginning of May. The falling rain was barely noticeable. More of a mist hanging in the air, almost like early morning dew.

Exhaling deeply, Hermione waved her wand, muttering a spell under her breath and a bouquet of bright yellow calla lilies sprouted from her wand. She leaned over and placed the flowers at the headstone before settling back on her haunches.

The crack of a branch some distance behind her caused her to turn quickly at the noise, her wand at the ready for any potential threat.

Hermione blinked and relaxed as Regulus made his way closer to her. He had donned his Death Eater regalia, sans mask, and was clutching a small goblet of steaming Polyjuice Potion.

“It’s time to go,” Regulus said once he reached Hermione.

Hermione nodded, but otherwise remained silent as she rose to her feet.

Dropping the hair into the goblet, Regulus grimaced as the Polyjuice bubbled threateningly. “Bottoms up.”

Hermione watched in awe as Regulus’ face changed to that of Rabastan Lestrange, lumpy nose and prominent chin included.

Regulus cleared his throat. “How do I look?” He raised an eyebrow at Hermione in question.

Hermione smirked at him. “Like an ugly son of a bitch. Good thing you have a big vault with lots of gold in it to impress me.”

Regulus chuckled. “Turn around. I need to glamour your hair.”

After a second or two of quick transfiguration, Hermione peered at her long, light blonde curls. “Will this be enough?”

“Absolutely.” Regulus held out an arm for her to grasp.

Together they Apparated away with a sharp _crack._

  
  



End file.
